“I’ll be okay.”
“Have you eaten yet today?” She looks away, eyes darting to something on her desk, ignoring my question. “Eat, Bristol,please, or I’ll feed you myself. And trust me, baby, that won’t be a hardship.”
She relents, her eyes never leaving mine as she sensually breaks off a piece of the muffin and slowly places it in her mouth. It’s erotic, sexy as hell, and I swear to Christ, she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.Little flirt.
We eat in silence, my mind lost to thoughts of her mouth on my fingers instead, and goddamn do I want tofeed her, to love on her, fucking worship her so much that she never second-guesses her worth.
I need to get her out of her head, show her some adventure, give her some fun, which means I really need to try to get her to the clubhouse.
“So, what are your plans for the weekend? Anything fun on your schedule?” Her face immediately falls, and I realize it was the wrong thing to ask.
“Uhm, yeah, Blake—my fiancé—has this gala Saturday night, the company he works for does business with some politician that’s up for re-election, so we’re attending a fundraiser, I guess.”
I internally cringe at the drop of his name. Of course he would bring her to some stuffy event. She doesn’t seem like the type who wants to dress up in formal wear and waltz around a ballroom with the rich and famous.
“A gala? Is that your typical scene?”
“Oh, no,” she laughs. “I’m more of a hard cider and bonfire kind of girl. I struggle to walk in heels; I hate pretentious asshats that only talk for the sake of hearing themselves speak. It’s all just too fake. And I’m a people person, Rhys! I guess I’m just drawn to the real and the raw, the messy, and the unapologetic. I don’t need all the pomp and circumstance.”
Called it.
God damn, would she love a clubhouse party. The complete opposite of everything she hates. Hell, maybe I’d start to enjoy them again if she were in my lap. I imagine she’d blush the first time she sees Wrath with his cock out fucking a patch bunny outin the open. I know everyone would love her. My mind turns with ways to get her to the clubhouse someday when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it, wanting to give Bristol my full attention. But when the second text message comes through, I pull out my phone, needing to make sure everything’s okay with the club.
“I’m sorry, I just need one second.”
Malice: I’m hungry
Malice: Will you pick up muffins from Daily Rise when you’re finished in Bloomfield? I can’t leave cause I have to babysit dipshit while he works this account stuff
Me: How do you know where I am, Mal?
Malice: Because…….
Me: You’re not supposed to stalk me
Malice: It’s not stalking if you know I’m doing it
Me: I’ll get your muffins if you get me a ticket to attend a fundraiser gala hosted by some rich bitch politician on Saturday night. I’m assuming you can figure it out
Malice: I want five
Malice: And a donut
Malice: And a hot chocolate with whipped cream
Me: Deal
I pocket my phone,and feeling confident that Bristol won’t be attending without a friend there, I return my attention to her. She’s relaxed back in her chair, both hands cupping the to-go mug. She looks content, at ease, and I love this look on her. I also love that I’m responsible for it.
Bristol
Rhys is giving me that look again. That one that burns me up from the inside out. Its smoldering intensity leaves me breathless. I want to bask in his warm rays, would willingly let myself burn up just to feel it. Everything about him is so different from everything I’ve ever experienced before. Such a drastic contrast to what I have with Blake.
I wish I could tell Rhys that this attention, the way he looks at me, the connection that thrums like a live wire between us so palpably, has given me a renewed confidence in what I want in a relationship that I didn’t realize I needed. Whether or not anything ever happens between Rhys and me, it’s proof that something more exists out there, and settling would be such an injustice to myself. I can’t keep going the way I have been, making excuses, waiting for things to change.
Rhys holds my eyes hostage as I lift the mug to my lips, my pulse fluttering wildly as I sip on the warm latte, the rich vanilla and cardamom flavors bursting on my tongue. It’s hard not to let my eyes flutter closed and moan around the rim. Rhys taking note of how much I enjoy them and continuing to keep me stocked is further proof of what a sweetheart he is . . . and how interested he clearly is in me, despite everything standing in his way.
“You know you don’t have to supply me with caffeine and pastries in order to volunteer, right? I’m starting to feel bad.”
